The State of Washington has wisely inaugurated a system of splendid roadways, whose skilful engineering has rendered the broad boulevards, the country highways, a veritable paradise of comfort to motorists. More than fifty thousand miles of such {224} road thoroughfares stretch in all directions from Seattle. Four of these great highways, those of the Pacific, Sunset, Olympic, and National Parks, were built and are maintained at the expense of the state. One important feature of these is the Pacific Highway, a thoroughfare of 2000 miles in length, connecting British Columbia with the southern limit of California. It is the longest drive of the world and has a picturesque beauty unsurpassed by that of any known region. Nor are the ardent residents of Seattle in any way inclined to reticence regarding her allurements. To one voyager on board, who was a native of the States, but who had been so spellbound by her first wonderful trip through Canada that she longed to "assume a virtue, though she had it not" and pass herself off as a native of the Dominion--to this tourist a Seattle lady rather importunately insisted that she ought to remain at least a week in the "Seaport of Success" and revel in its amazements. "You would see parks of hundreds of acres," exclaimed the loyal resident of the capital city of the State of Washington, among other enumerations of the glories to be revealed. "Oh, is that all?" unkindly responded the voyager. "Why, in Canada we are accustomed to parks of over four thousand square miles." The devotee of Canadian landscapes endeavoured to say this with the air of one born and bred in the Dominion, and she was quite charmed with her evident success when the Seattle lady {225} replied, "Oh, you are a Canadian? I thought you were one of our own people." "Did you, indeed?" returned the masquerading Canadian, non-committantly, with the most innocent and unconscious air that it was possible to assume. [Illustration: Mount Robson, British Columbia] It is an interesting and picturesque trip by rail from Seattle to Portland (some seven hours) and from Portland out to its port, Flavell-Astoria, is another picturesque little journey, some two hours by rail. Here awaits one of the Pacific steamers of the Great Northern Company, with its top deck glass-enclosed, making the vast sweep of ocean view possible in all weather; with four other promenade decks, with its ballroom, its conveniences for games of all sorts, and its enormous crowds of gay passengers. The sail from Flavell-Astoria to San Francisco is only thirty-six hours; too brief for a lover of beauty, yet a great deal of enjoyment can be crowded into that time by those who surprise the secret.